


take me to the moon and far, far away

by lilacs (museicalitea)



Series: between the stars and the moon [3]
Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museicalitea/pseuds/lilacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"I thought we'd seen the last of him," Tugger says.</p>
  <p>Munkustrap opens his mouth to reply, but stays silent. He closes it again. He wants to say <em>me too.</em> But that sounds childish—it is childish—and Munkustrap is not a child anymore.</p>
</blockquote><p>An interlude to Fantasies Come True, wherein Munkustrap does not find solutions, and the weight of fear and uncertainty is heavy on his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me to the moon and far, far away

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place just after Chapter Seven of Fantasies Come True, so you might want to read that first to get some context.

Tugger is at the front entrance, facing out towards the alleyway and the street beyond. The blood-red light of the sunset spills over him, and he looks very beautiful in it, and also very brooding. Munkustrap can see it in his posture. How his back is bowed a little, shoulders hunched and tense. The way he has lost just that much focus on how he looks. Munkustrap walks up to him, his footsteps dragging and heavy with fatigue and pain. Tugger does not acknowledge his presence, but it doesn’t matter.

“Tugger,” Munkustrap says. A greeting. A warning that he will say more. Tugger’s name, because Munkustrap needs to know that he is there, that he is still there and alive. He keeps walking until he is at Tugger’s side, and it is only then that his older brother turns to face him.

“Munkustrap,” he says quietly. “Didn’t think you’d be out here.”

“I didn’t realise you would be, either,” Munkustrap replies. Tugger’s mouth, already tight-lipped and serious, presses together until Munkustrap can barely see his lips. He looks as tired as Munkustrap feels—tired and scared and wishing for this awful, awful day to be over.

“I told Rina I’d wait out here in case they come back,” Tugger says. “How’s your shoulder?”

Munkustrap grimaces, and presses his foreleg closer to his chest. “Sore. It’ll be fine.” He doesn’t elaborate—doesn’t say that it hurts to move his foreleg at all, or that Plato hadn’t helped matters earlier. Doesn’t say any of this, because Tugger’s probably already guessed.

Munkustrap wishes, not for the first time since the attack, that Jennyanydots were around. She and Skimbleshanks both. Munkustrap does not know if they would know what to do any better than he does (and he really has no clue what he’s doing, but he has to fake it as long as he can before he can sit down by himself and actually _think_ about things), but they are both calm and logical thinkers, and they know how to deal with everyone in the junkyard. They are parents (Jemima’s in blood, but practically everyone else’s as well in practice). They are caretakers. And they act like it.

All of that, and Jenny is really the only one who knows much about taking care of injuries like his—dislocations and sprains and broken bones. And Munkustrap knows that he needs someone to know exactly what is wrong with his shoulder, and what needs to be done to ensure it heals.

They stand there silently for several minutes. The sun creeps lower and lower below the horizon, and they do not see anybody else. No cats in the alleyway, no dogs in the street. No scents, no sounds, no nothing.

The thought strikes Munkustrap all of a sudden. “What happened to you?” he asks.

Tugger inhales sharply, and Munkustrap thinks for a moment that he won’t respond. And then Tugger breathes out, and Munkustrap knows he will. Tugger cannot keep experiences or feelings bottled up inside him the way Munkustrap does. He talks (or screams or laughs or cries) and tells the world everything simply because that is what Tugger does.

“I… I dunno,” he says slowly, frowning a little. “I saw the first of ‘em. And then I woke up halfway across the yard, and I can’t remember a thing between that.” He frowns a little deeper. “I smell like him. It’s gross.”

Munkustrap can’t remember what Macavity smelled like as a youth, but Tugger’s right. There’s a scent lingering on him. It’s bitter and yet cloyingly sweet, and the awful rusty smell of blood has permeated it like it has everything. It isn’t hard to smell Tugger and think of Macavity.

Alonzo smelled like that too, when Munkustrap found him. He paid no heed to it at the time, too concerned with Alonzo being unconscious to notice anything else much, but now he thinks on it again…

So Alonzo had seen Macavity too. Munkustrap makes a mental note to talk to him about that when he wakes up.

( _If he wakes up,_ his brain supplies unhelpfully.)

“I thought we’d seen the last of him,” Tugger says suddenly, voice thick with anger and hurt. “I thought when—I thought he was done with us. He didn’t say a thing once against us kicking him out, and I thought—I thought— _damn it,_ Munkustrap, I didn’t think he was gonna come back!” His words tear out in a scream, harsh and brutal. And though he tilts his head back and lifts his chin when all the words are out – even though he looks so proud and closed off and strong – twin trails of tears still run down his cheeks.

Munkustrap opens his mouth to reply, but stays silent. He closes it again. He wants to say _Me too_. But that sounds childish—it _is_ childish—and Munkustrap is not a child anymore. He has to be an adult, even if he barely feels that way, and he has to be mature about this.

Tugger looks like he wants to say something else, but then his face tenses and he doesn’t. It doesn’t surprise Munkustrap. That time was awful for Tugger—gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards—and it’s still difficult for him to talk about it.

“I’m goin’ back,” Tugger says eventually. “Need to sleep. Can’t—can’t…” He takes a shaky breath, and Munkustrap places his good paw on Tugger’s shoulder and squeezes. He wants to say something, but doesn’t know what to say.

It is a few seconds later that Tugger takes a deep breath, straightens his posture, and turns around. He moves a step closer to Munkustrap, and leans his head in. Munkustrap inclines his head on reflex, and they nuzzle each other briefly. He doesn’t remember the last time they touched like this, but it is the most reassuring thing he has gotten out of Tugger all afternoon, and some of the tension he didn’t realise he was carrying in his chest eases.

He watches Tugger’s back as his brother walks away. His shoulder hurts something savage. Alonzo is still unconscious as far as he knows, and the thought makes him feel sick to his stomach. Plato hasn’t come back yet, and Munkustrap cannot help but think he knows what Plato has set out to do. Demeter and Mistoffelees have not come back yet, and Munkustrap cannot erase the panic he feels at knowing nothing about what has happened to them. There is too much he will have to do in the coming days, and when he thinks on it all, it feels like he is going to drown under the pressure and fear.

_(It was only an hour earlier, when he was investigating the clearing where he found Tugger (disoriented and mumbling about a headache) and Alonzo (unconscious) that he realised exactly where he was. And more specifically, where Macavity had come._

_He was in the graveyard._

_To clarify—there are no graves in it. The Jellicles do not bury their dead; they burn them, because it’s far easier on those alive. But they do scatter the ashes, after the rites have been performed and after the body has been burned twice to ensure there are no bones left. And they scatter them there._

_Macavity killed for the first time—or that they knew of—in this clearing, and yet, as decreed by habits they did not wish to break, that cat’s ashes were laid to rest here._

_Munkustrap wonders if it were a coincidence, or if it were a deliberate choice to bring Tugger there. Somehow, he doubts that Macavity meant to kill Tugger—if that had been his intention, Tugger would be dead. There must have been some other reason for his invasion._

_He tries not to dwell too much on the thought that the whole invasion may have been a mere cover for finding Tugger. He does not want to think that, even though he must consider it as a possibility._

_There is too much he does not know, and though he must think about it, it is the last thing he wants to do.)_

But Tugger’s back is tall and straight. His brother is alive and mostly unharmed.

And Munkustrap holds on to that knowledge, holds on to it and does not let it go. For it is the first thing he thinks of when he begins to sink in the overwhelming mental aftermath of Macavity’s invasion, and it has kept him afloat very, very well so far.

The last light finally fades from the sky, and Tugger’s back has long since vanished from sight, but for the first time in hours, Munkustrap finally feels a little less afraid.


End file.
